Page 22 of Broken Promises

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I raise my hand to knock on the door. The house is dark, the secrets, lies, and betrayals hang in the air like a foul stench. Despite wishing a slow, painful death on Frankie since the moment I learned how he treated his daughter, there’s no denying that a small part of me died too when Layla put a bullet through his heart. He was my mentor. He shaped me into the man I am now. It fucking hurts that we fell apart along the way. Life would’ve been different if I had stayed by his side. Perhaps Layla and I would’ve gotten together sooner. Frankie would probably give us his fucking blessing...

Maybe she’d still be the angel she was all those years ago. She’s closer to a devil than an angel now. She has no wings. Frank tore them out. He bruised, taunted, and brainwashed her for years.

A wave of hatred sweeps me from head to toe, bulldozing the regret. It fades quickly when the lights come on in one of the rooms upstairs and then in the hallway downstairs. Angry, hastened footsteps reverberate inside before the door flies open, and I’m staring into the barrel of a gun.

Frank’s gun in Jess’s shaky hands.

Yeah, I’m definitely not her favorite person.

She shudders all over, her eyes pooling with fresh tears, the slim, pale face bordered by a mess of short hair. “Leave,” she chokes, clutching the gun in both hands. I think she’s aiming at my forehead, but her hands shake so much it might as well be my throat. “Leave, Dante.Now.”

“Put it down, Jess,” I say, unfazed. She hadn’t even flipped the safety. “I’m not here to hurt you. I need your help.”

Her grip tightens. Tears roll down her cheeks and her flawless make-up. “Get out of here. Please... get out!”

I grab her wrist, retrieve the gun, and pull her flush against my chest, boxing the petite, scared woman in my arms. She doesn’t fight to break free. Instead, her body gives in and melts against me as she rests her forehead on my torso, fisting my jacket with both hands. A sharp intake of air paves the way for powerful, despairing sobs.

“I need to find Layla.” I hold her in a tight embrace, cradling her head to my chest. “I know she was here the night Frank died.”

Jess nuzzles closer to me for another three sharp inhales before she steps away, wiping her face with the sleeve of her pink silk robe, half of her make-up stamped on my shirt. Blonde hair sticks to her long neck, and baby-blue eyes look dull, almost dead. She lost her husband two weeks ago, but I have a feeling it’s not him she misses the most. It’s Layla. Jess never was a devoted mother; she never had time for Layla, too busy enjoying her youth to appreciate a child, but she’s a mother, nonetheless. Losing them both must’ve been a bucket of ice-cold truth over her head. I’m sure it opened her eyes to everything she fucked up in her life.

“I don’t know where she is. Even if I knew—”

“Jess,” Julij says behind me, making his presence known. “We need to know where she is. It’s important.”

Jess glances between us, one eyebrow raised as she awaits explanations. There’s no time for a vague chit-chat. I walk around her, inside the house, taking the direction of the kitchen. Not much has changed here over the years. The same light color scheme and expressionist paintings of distorted faces on the walls. The distinct smell of cigar smoke saturated every piece of furniture here over the years.

Spades stays outside with Dimitri while Julij and Jess trail behind me as if I’m the host and this is my fucking house. She sets an ashtray on the glass table, pointing her chin at the opposite chair. Julij settles for a casual lean against the wall, watching Jess with a frown, ready to beat the information out of her if playing nice proves fruitless. The intensity of his feelings for Layla is staggering. He rivals my protectiveness. Puts to shame my agitation. At least he keeps a careful watch over his possessiveness. Otherwise, his face would resemble one of those in the hideous paintings in the hallway.

“Who killed Frank?” Jess asks.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. Although I’m sure you’ve already figured it out.”

She helps herself to one of my cigarettes. “I guessed that Layla did it. She was terrified when she came home that night and immediately started packing. I didn’t want to believe she had it in her to kill him.”

“She had a choice. Frank or me.” I light a zippo, leaning over the table to light the cigarette for her.

“That explains a lot...” She inhales a deep drag, standing up to fetch a glass of wine. “Ever since she met you, she started seeing Frank for who he was. The longer you were together, the more she surprised me with how she treated him. Until you, she was blind to Frank’s flaws. She looked at him and saw the father she so desperately wanted to have, not the one she had. You were good for her.”

No objection. We brought out the best in each other. “I need to find her.”

Jess bites her lip, and just like that, I’m back in Layla land.

She bites her lip, playing with her fingers. “I think I probably do believe you’re here for me and that I’m Switzerland.”

“Youthink?Probably?” I smirk. “You have to know it. And believe me, when you’re ready and willing, I won’t let you out of bed for a very long time.” I fall onto my back, tyingmy handsunder my head.

Layla lays down too, lips swollen from my kisses. “You’re not making this easy, are you?” She nuzzles herself into my side. “I shouldn’t want to love you.”

Love?

She wants toloveme.

One sentence and the arrogant fucker I am,turnsinto a plush toy. “You’re delirious, Star. You must be exhausted.” I wrap my arms around her, kissing her head.

I hope she’ll love me.

Ihopeshe won’t be able to live without me becauseIsure as hell can’t imagine my life without her.


Tags: I.A. Dice Erotic